The Price of Revenge
by KBrowneyes12
Summary: Kira Hopkins is sentenced to twenty years for murdering her abusive stepfather after he rips her family apart. Although she is from Texas, she is sent to Fox River to serve her sentence disguised as a male inmate. Can she learn how to let go of her damaged past to have a better future? Can she survive as the only female in a male prison without other inmates learning her secret?
1. Chapter 1:Burning Bridges Part 1

**Note: This is my first story. I have been working on this for about a year and I finally got the guts to post it. I am not good at making up names, so these are what I came up with. They may change later on.  
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**Warning: This story does contain very violent scenes so if you can't handle it, please do not read or just skip over them.  
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**I hope you all like it! I am very proud of it. Reviews and comments are welcome! :)  
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My name is Kira, and I am a convicted killer. The realization hit me and it felt like someone punched me in the stomach; the air in my lungs had all but left my body, and my eyes began to water. As I sat in my cell in that blistering Texas jail, it finally sunk in that I was to be sent to a maximum security prison for a crime that, until about a week ago, I thought I would never be capable of committing; I was a cold blooded murderer. But strangely, I had no remorse for what I had done. I had ended a life that had been the source of my families misery for a little over ten years.

I was raised solely by my mother, who had given birth to me when she was only seventeen years of age. She never had a man in her life, but in her opinion she didn't need one. My mother was the strongest, most independent woman I had ever known. Hell, who needed a celebrity role model like Oprah or someone like that when I had my own role model in my own house. But when David came into the picture when I was just shy of eight years old, everything in my life turned upside down. My mother's strength began to shrink away within a matter of months. I never quite understood why she had changed so drastically in only a matter of months, until I hit the age of twelve. I remember the first night that David had snuck into my bedroom. I remember the eerie smile that he held on his face the entire time that he was on top of me. That was the worst night of my life, I had never felt so violated and embarrassed. My body felt as if it didn't even belong to me anymore. Unfortunately the abuse continued until I ran away from home at the age of sixteen.

When I was fifteen, my mother found out that she was pregnant. I recall the night that she told me. It was exactly one month after she had told me that she was working on a plan for us to escape David. Every day, my mother spent hours putting make up over the scars that he had given her, and I would help her nurse the new wounds that were inflicted upon her each time. The experience made us closer in some strange way. Spending all of that time talking to each other (while David was working of course) had made us more aware of how much we needed each other. This relationship was not to last, however. I knew that he would not allow it as long as he was in control.

But on my sixteenth birthday, I found myself spending most of the day hugging the toilet of the school nurse's restroom. The nurse kept asking me questions about what I had ingested for the last week. I didn't want to answer them, and she began to assume the worst. So she sent me to the hospital. That was the day I received the worst birthday gift of my entire life. I was also pregnant. The doctors told me that I was about eight weeks along, while my mother was almost five months. The doctors asked me so many questions that I knew that I couldn't answer. I remember David coming to pick me up from the hospital. He tried not to show it but there was no mistaking the fire in his deep brown eyes. That night felt like that first night when I was twelve; however this night also came with a broken nose and some cracked ribs.

I am eighteen now, and have been living on my own while working two part time jobs for two long years. I was alone in my life. I had no close friends, or any other significant relationships for that matter. I hadn't spoken to any of my family since I had gotten the abortion. I was angry at them for forcing me into that situation. I hadn't even spoken to my little sister, Sarah, who had to be about four years old at this time. I loved Sarah with all of my heart; she was the only person in the world that I could honestly say that I loved. She was my rock, and I hated myself for losing touch with her. However, I couldn't look her in the eye since she was born. Her deep brown eyes brought back so many memories. I hated myself for comparing her to her piece of scum father. But she knew the reason why I couldn't look at her. I knew the idea crushed her little heart, but we both still loved each other so much. We were sisters after all.

I remember when I got the call at work.

I was working as a waitress at the time. My manager called me to the kitchen and told me that I had a phone call.

"Kira Hopkins?"

"Yes, who am I speaking with?"

"This is Sheriff Daley with the police department. You wouldn't happen to know the whereabouts of a mister David Savalla who you?"

"No sir, to be honest I haven't even spoken with my family in over two years. Did something happen?"

He sighed, as if he was under a lot of stress. I was beginning to get anxious.

"Come on, Chris, give it to me straight. If something has happened to my family, I need to know."

Sheriff Christopher Daley has known me for almost my entire life. Him and my mother were best friends for fifteen years. He was a tall, slender man. He was my mothers age, and they had graduated from high school together. He had five o' clock shadow all the time, for his job schedule did not allow him to shave every morning. He wasn't the worst looking man I had ever seen, but he always had a slight acne problem that began on his forehead and ended at the very tip of his nose. He had clear blue eyes, and a soft face. I had never seen him angry or upset about anything, although I was sure that he did lash out at some the criminals I had known him to frequently arrest. He had always been in love with my mom, and he was always a soft spoken person towards us. After she married David, he was frequently called to our home for domestic violence claims from my neighbors. He knew what was going on the entire time, however he never could prove that anything was wrong. Although he hated David and wanted more than anything to get him away from us, he never could pin anything on him, nor would anyone else, including us, be stupid enough to testify against him.

"Kira, I am so sorry," He sighed again, and I could tell from his tone in his voice that he was starting to tear up, "Your mother- she- she committed suicide. She shot herself in the head with your stepfather's pistol. Your sister, Sarah, was sent to the hospital from her school for bruises on her face and arms. The doctors had also found signs of sexual abuse, so they called me in. I had to call Child Protective Services and they took her with them to be adopted. Your stepfather fled after the police found your mother's body. We don't know where he went, although we are in constant contact with his coworkers and his family. Do you happen to know where he could be?"

I felt the blood rush from my face almost immediately after he began to speak. I thought of my mother, who had felt trapped. She had nowhere to go, and she had to deal with my sister having the same disgusting things done to her that I had done to me for eight years. My sister! Sarah. I would never see her again. In a way I was thankful that she would finish growing up in a home where she would loved in a normal way, with parents that would tuck her in to bed at night and hug her and tell her that they loved her. Not in a home where you wanted to just shut your bedroom door and lock it forever, but you knew that if you did so, the door would be knocked down anyway in a matter of minutes.

"K-Kira? Please answer me." He was sobbing now. I could hear it in his voice. I could see his soft face. I could see his blue eyes filled with tears as the previous ones were dripping off of his face. I instantly felt so sorry for him. He was so in love with my mother and he loved me as his own daughter. I had just left them to suffer. All of them. This was my fault. I had to fix this now. I was done running away.

"Chris...Chris calm down. I have no idea where he is. If I hear anything I will let you know. Trust me, I don't want him to be on the streets any more than you do." I could feel the hatred for David spilling out of my lips as I spoke and to be honest I was scaring myself. Chris apparently could hear it also and I could hear the fear in his voice through the sobs.

"Kira, you're scaring me. Are you okay? P- Please don't do anything stupid. I know what he did to you and what he put all of y'all through, but you and your sister are finally free. Leave this alone. Let me find him and put him away for good... Kira?

I remained silent for a few moments, lost in my own thoughts. I finally came to and told Chris that I would be fine. I assured him that I wouldn't do anything that I would regret, and if I hear anything I would call him. I knew that he didn't believe me, but he said okay and we ended the conversation.

But in reality, I knew exactly where my stepfather was. Chris would not have to find him, I was going to finish this once and for all.

I don't remember most of that night. I remember the two hour drive back to my hometown. I remember sitting in front of the house that I grew up in. I sat on the front porch underneath the crime scene tape that was lined across the entry way to the house for several minutes, lost in the memories. I walked in to the house and blindly walked in to my old bedroom. It was currently empty but in my mind it looked exactly the same as it did the day that I left home. I sat on the floor where my bed used to sit and again got lost in all of the terrible memories and pain that filled the room. All of a sudden, I felt my eyes begin to fill with tears. I hadn't cried since I was twelve, the night that David first raped me. Then I was only crying out of fear and pain. Now I began to cry out of hatred for David as well as grief for my mother and sister. I sat in that room for three hours and made up for all of the missing tears that I had held in for so long. I finally calmed myself down and slowly walked to my mother's bedroom, where I found a massive blood stain on the carpet. I reached down and tenderly touched the spot. Instantly the anger returned and coursed through my entire body. The next thing I knew, I was in the warehouse where David worked, staring down at the ground at David's lifeless body, while holding a hammer with blood running down the handle. I remember when the police lights began flashing, lighting up the darkened shop. I quietly let Chris Daley handcuff me and place me in the back of the car. He looked at me from the outside of the car, and I could see the grief on his face, I couldn't bring myself to feel guilty or sorry at the time however. I looked away from him and stared at a spot on the back of the front seat. I did kind of feel bad for him, for putting him through even more grief by having to arrest me. I was like a daughter to him, and now I was going to prison. I began to think about Sarah and my mother. They would never have to worry about David ruining their lives again. I silently spoke to them, telling them that it was all over. Strangely, I felt a smile come onto my face. Sarah was free. Chris was free. My mother was free. I was free..well...in a way.


	2. Chapter 2: Burning Bridges Part 2

**Sorry the last chapter was not quite where i wanted to end it. Here is the rest until she arrives to Fox River. **

**Again some content may be offensive to some.  
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Now I am sitting in my cell after my trial, where I plead guilty to my crime. The judge that presided over my case was hard and very experienced. She was a short woman with curly white hair that reached the nape of her neck. Her facial features, along with her short stature and attitude, reminded me very much of a toad. She did realize that this was my first offense, however due to the nature of my crime, she would be forced to send me away to prison. My lawyer tried so hard to get me to show some type of remorse over what I had done, but for some reason, I couldn't bring myself to feel or even fake any. I knew what was coming for me, but what I had done was necessary. I had killed an abusive pedophile, and I was glad that I had done it. The judge sentenced me to twenty years as well as at least three months of counseling in some prison in Illinois called Fox River. I was being sent out of state to serve my sentence? When she sentenced me, I glanced behind me where Chris was sitting and I saw him look sharply the judge. I saw the fear I his blue eyes as he turned his head to look at me. His piercing blue eyes met mine for a brief moment, but I quickly turned and faced the judge. I could still feel his eyes on me as I was escorted back to my cell by a rookie city cop.

My cell had one extremely scratchy mattress and one small toilet. Nothing else except the small window where I was able to barely see out towards the night sky. I was raised in a small country town, so I loved being able to see the stars every night. They were so clear and the sky was huge. I had a feeling that I would never get to see my Texas sky again, and I felt myself mentally saying goodbye. This is my last night to see the one friend that had truly been a source a comfort for me through all of the years I lived with David..

I was startled out of my thoughts by someone clearing their throat. I looked over to the door of my cell and saw Chris nervously leaning against the bars of my cell through the moon light that was pouring in to the jail. I jumped off of my bed and walked towards him. He wouldn't look me in the eye as he began to speak.

"Kira, what have you done? You told me that you would leave this alone. Why couldn't you let me handle this?"

He spoke almost too quietly for me to hear him. He put his head down onto his crossed arms that were placed on the bars of my cell. He sounded as if he was trying to hold in tears, and I was sure that he was.

"Chris-" I reached out to lightly touch his shoulder.

His head shot up so fast that it startled me and I quickly pulled my arm back.

"No don't you 'Chris' me! What the hell have you done? Kira, do you realize where you are being sent?"

His sounded angry now. His voice was so loud that it echoed off of the walls of the cell. This scared me so I backed up quickly until I bumped into my bed. I sat down and gaped at Chris, not believing that he was actually yelling, especially at me. I heard never even heard him raise his voice, much less get so angry that he screamed at someone.

"Well I killed my pedophile stepfather. So I guess I am going to prison. And you know what? I am glad I did it! I don't care where I am going now. I am free from him! Good god, Chris, you have no clue what he put us through. You never took him away! You knew what was happening and you did NOTHING! You loved her and you let her suffer! You ran away from her and she put a bullet in her damn head! She is dead because of you!"

I felt myself getting angrier and angrier and my voice getting louder and louder with each word that came out of my mouth. As soon as I was done, I realized that I was speaking more to myself than him. I knew that this wasn't his fault. It was at that moment that I realized what I had done.

Chris stood up straight and fixed his uniform. I could see the tears welling up in his eyes. I knew that I had really hurt him. He would never forgive me for what had just came out of my mouth.

"Goodbye Kira. Good luck with everything."

That was all he could say. He turned around with his head high and walked away from me. I heard an attempted silent sob escape his mouth as he was walking away. That was the last time that I would ever see Christopher Daley, the only man who had ever been somewhat of a father to me throughout my life, and I had hurt him forever.

The next morning, I was woken up to someone banging on the bars of my cell. The same rookie cop who had brought me back to my cell after my trial was staring at me through the bars of my cell with a blank look.

"Hopkins, transfer."

I groaned. I was never a good morning person.

"God, already? It's not even light outside yet."

"Long drive," He took a sip out of his coffee mug, "Gotta get going if we are going to make it by tomorrow afternoon."

I groaned again. I had almost forgotten.

Wait. Tomorrow? Holy shit! I didn't realize how far Illinois was from here.

"Where is Sheriff Daley?" I realized his computer was off and his desk was completely clean when we walked past it.

"Called in today. Will not be in for the rest of the week. Some type of flu or something."

I instantly felt horrible for what I had said last night. I would not even get to say goodbye to him. I just lost the one person that I could rely on while I was serving my sentence almost all the way across the country.

I kept trying to fall asleep while on the road, but every time we hit a bump I was once again awakened. I must be asleep for longer than I think,though, because each time my eyes open there is a different guard sitting in front of me with a gun practically strapped to his chest. They all have the exact same look on their faces though. Fear? Concern? I hadn't seen looks like these from men since that day in the hospital. I hated when people gave me pity looks. I look away quickly and stare out of the window, and I realize that we are out of Texas. I almost wanted to jump out of the van and crawl back home, but I knew that was impossible. I had sealed my future; I sealed my future the minute I decided to go through with killing David. I realize that this will be the last time that I would get to see any sort of scenery. I begin to take in every little thing that I see. Every tree, every rock, every flower and blade of grass. I take mental pictures so that I can remember the landscape while I am sitting in a cell for the next twenty years. I feel myself begin to doze off.

* * *

The next thing I know, I am being shaken awake by a guard.

"We're here. Time to go." This guard looks as if he could be my father. I noticed that he is the same guard that was sitting in front of me when we first took off. He is starting to bald slightly. I know this because of his receding hair line. He has wrinkles that are just beginning to form on his forehead and under his eyes; he is not too terribly obese, however he does have a little bit of a beer gut.

He is trying to be a tough cop, but I can see the concern on his face and hear the uneasiness in his voice. Sort of like a father would look if he was concerned about his child.

"Do you have kids Mr..." I look on his name plate, "Smith?"

He didn't answer. He just slowly nodded.

That explains it. I am escorted into the doors of the prison, and I realize that I am surrounded by all male correctional officers. They are all staring at me with curiosity. I immediately feel self conscious. I was not looking forward to being around these men for the next twenty or so years.

When I reach the Warden's office, the guard releases me from his soft grip and knocks on the door. While we are waiting for a response, I find myself examining the features of the office. The room sort of reminds me of a principal's office in a school. The walls are lined with cheap elegant looking paper. There is one desk with a slightly plump female secretary sitting behind it with a half played solitaire game on the screen. She is flirting with a black male correctional officer. He is slender built and bald headed. The idea of a black correctional officer is strange to me, as I am not used to people of another race having authority over white people, especially men. But what is the strangest site to me is the fact that two people of the opposite gender and race are basically undressing each other with their eyes as if this is completely normal. As I stared at the two and pondered the situation the was unfolding before me, I heard someone on the other side of the door we were standing in front of say "Come in." The door opened and I was gently lead into the office. The walls were lined with the same paper as what was on the outside waiting area. The desk, however, made up almost the whole length of the room. I was lead to the chair in front of the desk and I sat in it and waited. The guard places my file on top of the large, cherry wood desk and steps back to lean against the back wall until I am done speaking with the Warden.

The warden looks up from his desk after glancing at the file that was placed on his desk and stares at me, not sure what to say at first.

"K-Kira Hopkins."

"Warden."

He remains silent and just stares at my face with confusion. This is completely awkward for me, so I clear my throat and look up at the ceiling.

"Here's the deal," He begins to speak, "I don't know what they have told you about my prison, but you should know that you are not in a normal situation as of right now."

I quickly put my head in its normal position and look back at Warden Pope, not sure what he means.

"Ummm..Warden, I believe that I killed someone, so I should be in prison, correct?"

"Hmm..." He nods and changes the subject for a brief moment, "I have placed you into a cell with one of the only prisoners that I can trust. He has been in here a long time and kept his nose clean almost the entire time. This is to ensure your safety while you are incarcerated here. I realize that you are far from home, and as I said you are in a...unique situation...By the way, your accent...is very noticeable Ms. Hopkins," He glances down at my file again, "Texas..." He murmurs to himself.

"I was born and raised in the south, Sir. I ain't exactly from here, so yes my accent would sound somewhat strange to you. As yours does to me." I respectfully smile at him and wait for him to get to the point.

He just hums to himself in thought and continues. I notice that he has not made eye contact with me since I entered his office.

"Ms. Hopkins, before we send you out into GenPop, which means General Population, it is where all of the main prisoners are kept, you will need to change into standard issued apparel."

I nod to him and let him finish.

"You will also need to...well...hide a few features from the other inmates." He says nervously. I squint my eyes at him, confused, when I realize that he has made a nod towards my chest.

It suddenly hit me. I really hope I am wrong and that Warden Pope will laugh at me when I ask him this question.

"Warden..." I am almost afraid to continue, "I am not in a maximum security prison for women, am I?"

He looks at me with genuine concern. "Well surely the guards back in Texas...oh my God."

He puts his head in his hands and rubs his temples, as if under a lot of stress. Now I know why all of the guards were acting so strange around me both on the way here and when I arrived.

My heart begins to race, and I can feel my hands starting to sweat underneath my handcuffs. My thoughts are now spinning around in my head like a tornado.

I finally slow my breathing and my heart down, and I compose myself.

"What all do I have to do, Warden?"

After the Warden let me in on what I was suppose to do in order to hide my gender from the male inmates, the guard escorted me outside the Warden's office and handed me to a correctional officer. He was slightly plump and I could tell that he took his job way too seriously. He began to escort me of the Warden's office area and to the infirmary, where I was to change into my prison clothing, as well as receive my initial physical from the doctors, as well as get my "makeover."

"Good luck, Miss Hopkins," Pope calls to me as I am walking out of the office door, "If you need anything, just let me know. Becky, tell the guards down in GenPop to send Michael Schofield to my office."

I gave Pope a small smile. I glance at the secretary as I walk away towards the infirmary, and she just gawks at me while she picks up her walkie talkie and begins to speak in to it to someone on the other side which I'm sure was to call who ever the Warden needed to speak to. I shoot her a reassuring smile and chuckle to myself at her expression. After all, I am the only female prisoner in Fox River.


	3. Chapter 3: New Acquaintances

**Hey guys! Thanks for the reviews! **

**ragabeubeu: Sorry if i messed your pen name up. Thank you very much! I have always enjoyed stories like this as well! I have been thinking on this plot for a while and it means a lot that other people like it too!**

**KnightmareAngel: I am so glad that you like it as well. I have a ton of chapters written, almost to the break out! I am a perfectionist so that's why I haven't posted them yet! But they will come very soon! **

**Keep the encouragement coming! :)**

* * *

When I reach the infirmary, a very young female doctor is sitting in the chair in the room that I am sent to. I suppose that the doctors were briefed for my arrival, because this is the only place that I have been to in the last couple of days that people have not gawked at me. Also, I notice that there are no prisoners in the entire infirmary at the moment, which I had a feeling was a result of the Warden. When I sit on the edge of the infirmary bed, the guard handcuffs me to the railing of the bed, nods towards the doctor, and leaves the room, shutting the door behind him. I look away from the door and to the doctor rolling the chair towards my bed. She had long, wavy brown hair, and she is tall and very skinny. She shoots me a sympathetic smile, and begins to speak. I warmly smiled back at her while she speaks to me, relieved that I would have another female to talk to in this place that knew my secret.

"Kira Hopkins, I am Sara Tancredi, I will be your doctor as well as your counselor here in Fox River."

I had almost forgotten about the second phase of my sentence. Counseling. I had been told by many people that I should have gone to counseling way before this because of my past experiences with David. Maybe if I had only listened to them I wouldn't have ended up locked up with rapists and mass murderers, and male ones at that.

I say hello to her and she asks me if I have any questions about what is going to happen to me during my physical and what I would have to do to change my appearance, including my hair style.

I shake my head no and explain that the Warden has explained the situation to me very well. Honestly, I was just ready to get to my cell and take a nap. I hadn't slept for the past couple of days, at least not very well, and I was due for some good sleep.

She showed me how to work the padded wrap that was supposed to conceal my breasts. She carefully helped me to wrap myself, however I knew that I would have to figure it out for myself eventually because I knew that she wouldn't always be here to help.

"Ms. Tancredi?"

"You can call me Sara if you like." She said rather nervously, as I felt here fasten the wrap in place. It was very scratchy and uncomfortable, but her hands were very gentle. I also knew that in the long run the tighter the wrap was, the less of a chance there was of me being found out by another prisoner. I didn't complain, but I suppose that she felt me flinch slightly when she tightened it the last time for good measure.

"Sorry."

"It's fine. I'd rather it be too tight than have it fall off and be found out."

She only nodded in agreement and sat back in the chair in front of me to finish up my physical examination. I heard the velcro unfasten on the blood pressure machine and she fastened it to my left arm. I had always hated the blood pressure machine, although I never understood why. I let my breathing relax as the machine tightened around my arm. When she was done I continued.

"Sara, do you ever feel afraid working here? Like these men want nothing more than to hurt you just because of your gender?"

She looked up into my face for the first time since I had entered the infirmary. I could see the surprise on her face, as if she knew exactly what I meant.

"Uhh, yeah I do, all the time. But I decided a long time ago that I wanted to be a part of the solution. To help people get a second chance in life."

"Sure. But why a male prison? I mean, why not in an elementary school or something, you know, be part of the solution before there is even a problem?"

She nervously laughed and looked at the ceiling, still smiling.

"Well," She said, clearing her throat and looking back down at me, "To be honest I ask myself that question every day. As does my father. But you know, I love being here. I love the feeling that I am helping out someone that maybe doesn't deserve to have a second chance in their life, but craves it, even if they don't show it on the outside. Every man...or prisoner... in here deep down wants some sort of a redo in their life. Or at least, I would like to think so. I want to show them that anything is possible. That they do deserve that second chance, to start over with their lives. So that they have a reason to want to get out someday."

I was shocked. I had never heard someone have this much passion about what they do. I nodded to her and I felt small smile begin to creep onto my face. I knew that those words were going to help me through this ordeal, in some strange way. We might have a lot more in common than just being one of very few females in an all male penitentiary. Those words were going to be my source of comfort for the next few years.

* * *

I am very grateful that it is so cold here in Illinois, as compared to Texas, or else my body would be caked in sweat underneath my wrap. Sara had left to go tend to another patient and to give me some time to myself. I was grateful because I knew that this would be one of the last times I would get to be alone. I stood in the infirmary by myself and looked at my new appearance, not recognizing the person that was staring back at me.

The person that was supposed to be in the mirror had long, light brown hair, lightly tanned skin, a strong face, and an hourglass figure. Instead was a young boy with no shape whatsoever, short brown hair, and a scared to death look on his face. This kid would be taken advantage of real fast in this place.

I decided to put on my game face and show these tough northern inmates how people in Texas can handle their own. No doubt the whole prison had already heard about the new prisoner that had arrived from the south, especially my cellmate.

Oh god, my cellmate.

I never was one to live with anyone else, mainly because of my short fuse. Now I would have to suck it up without having to take shit.Somehow I figured that my past abuse would prevent me from getting myself into too much trouble in here, considering that this whole prison is full of men. All those years of dealing with David had definitely taught me how to keep my mouth shut, at least until my limits were pushed. That was when I got into the most trouble. I never really had a filter with what I said when I got angry or annoyed. That part of me was never squashed by anyone. I knew that I would have to watch my mouth while I was in here. David at least had some sort of mercy on me when he knew that I absolutely could not take anymore, or when he thought that I had learned my lesson. However, the men in here would not hesitate to kill me; they had nothing to lose or gain from me.

After a while, a loud knock on the infirmary door woke me from my thoughts.

"Time to go."

It was the same guard who brought me into the warden's office. Sara had told me his name was Brad Bellick. She had also told me that he was the reason that she had gotten the job here at Fox River, and that he had the most pull in the prison, and not to cross him under any circumstances. However I knew that I was going to have to make my own opinion of him. I kept reminding myself of Sara's words:

_Every man in here wants a second chance in their life, even if they don't show it on the outside._

I was going to have to keep myself aware of that fact, and try to see the better side of people for once in my life. Never too late to learn a new trick. I took one last look at myself in the mirror, sighed, and walked out towards my future for the next twenty years.

"Wow, there's a big difference. What happened to...nevermind."

I guess Bellick saw the death glare I was shooting him, especially when he was referring to my chest. "Look, girlie, just keep your nose clean and nobody should bother you. You got lucky with your cellmate. Warden Pope really trusts him. He has been in here almost the longest out of every other prisoner here, and he's old enough to be your grandpa." He chuckled.

"What's his name?"

"Charles Westmoreland. A lot of guys in here will tell you that he is D.B. Cooper, but he will deny it. Parachuted out of a plane 30 years ago with a million and a half in cash. Shit, you probably were not even a sperm cell in your daddy's ding dong back then." He chuckled to himself.

"Awesome." I said dryly, ignoring his remarks. I had absolutely no idea who this D.B. Cooper person was, but I had no doubt that I would hear the whole story here pretty soon.

This Bellick guy was really working on my nerves. His ego was far too large for his appearance, and he came across as a pervert to me, considering that every time I spoke to him, he was staring down at my now concealed chest, as if he was hoping to catch a glimpse of my breasts.

"One more thing," He said as we were reaching the doors to Gen Pop, "If anything happens to you in here, we can't give you any special treatment. After all, your supposed to have balls.

Remember that, and you should be just fine. But no promises sweet cheeks. However," His face came really close to my ear as he tried to be smooth, "If you need anything, I'm sure that we can come to some sort of agreement." I could feel the smirk on his face as soon as his greasy cheek touched mine.

I had instantly taken back what I had said before about trying to see the good side of people, and unfortunately, I didn't think before I spoke.

"Ha! Fat chance. But I will be sure to remember that. And one more thing, don't call me sweet cheeks again." I could feel a sarcastic smirk on my face as he glared down at me and crinkled his nose up.

Bellick grabbed my arms with both hands from behind my back and twisted. I groaned in pain and almost fell over from the pressure on my arms.

"You better watch your mouth in here," He growled at me, "Not so much with me, but with your little friends in here. Or else it will get shut for you real fast. You got that, sweet cheeks. Now if you ever talk to me like that in front of these inmates, the men in here will get a great peep show, if you know what I mean. I can't tell you when's the last time these guys have seen a pair of tits, especially ones like yours."

All I could do was glare at him as we began walking towards the now open doors to GenPop. I was so irritated I couldn't wait to get to my cell and away from Bellick.

As soon as the doors to GenPop shut behind us the whoops and hollers began.

"Fresh meat."

"Hey badge, who gets that little piece of ass in their cell?"

"Hey, Fish, You look kind of pretty to be up in here."

I couldn't make out all of the chants, but I had a feeling that I didn't want to. I tried my hardest not to show the fear on my face, and I felt that I was doing a decent job considering my situation.

When we reached my cell, which thankfully was on the ground floor, Bellick yelled loudly, "Open on 18!" Which made me jump in surprise. He noticed that his yell startled me and he smirked.

I walked into the cell and sighed. It felt more like a small tissue box than a home. Hell, my one bedroom apartment back in Texas was bigger than this.

I looked around until I saw a very old, withered looking man sitting on the bottom bunk holding a brown striped cat. He looked up at me and gave a warm smile, the kind that your grandfather would give. It felt safe to get a smile like that from a man, especially one at his age, at least for a few moments at least.

The door of the cell shut with a loud clang, and I heard Bellick mumble, "Remember my offer girlie. Like I said I got a lot of pull in here. And I can just as easily switch your cellie's to someone not as...old and tired." He kept the smirk on his fae as he walked off. I just gave him the finger as soon as his back was turned and all the way until I couldn't see him anymore.

Charles just snickered quietly.

"C.O. Already got under your skin, eh?"

"Yeah I guess so. My name's K- Kody."

"Charles."

"Yeah I know. I have heard all about you. You are one of the most trusted inmates here. You have been here the longest?"

He chuckled again. "Almost." I walked up to stroke the cat that he was holding in his lap. She was suprisingly sweet and soft, unlike the cats back at home, who normally were full of mange and hated people. "Nice cat." I muttered.

"Yeah she's grandfather. Once she's gone that's it." He changed the subject. "By the way, your accent. Your not from Illinois, are you?"

"Texas." I smiled at him.

"Ah. That explains it. I only know of a few southerners in here right now. But you wouldn't want to compare notes with them any time soon, if at all."

"Why's that?"

"Well, for one, one of those said inmates happens to be Theodore Bagwell. I know if your from the South, then you must know who that Alabaman son of a bitch is. Raped and killed all those kids. And not always in that order either." He said disgustedly.

As soon as the name hit his lips, my heart stopped beating. I knew exactly who Bagwell was. I watched a lot of Most Wanted, and I followed his trial on TV. I was disgusted with him the moment I first saw him and heard his story. I know exactly how many people he had killed and raped. I just had no idea that he was incarcerated here...with me. I gulped. I began to shake, and about fell against the wall of the cell, but I quickly composed myself, and straightened up.

Shakily, I said, "Oh really. I didn't know that he was here as well." I tried not to show my anxiousness, however I'm pretty sure that I didn't do a very good job.

"Yeah well, he is. And if you were smart you'd stay away from him."

I nodded in agreement and changed the subject quickly, mainly to calm my own nerves. "You don't smoke, do you? I haven't had a square since I left Texas."

Charles shook his head and chuckled. "Quit the stuff about ten years ago. It's bad for you, ya know?"

I nodded in disappointment. To be honest I hadn't smoked a cigarette in a long time, but I was so anxious I thought that one couldn't hurt, especially considering the position I was in.

"Just thought I'd ask."

Charles just nodded his head, sent me a sympathetic smile, and turned back to the book that he was reading.

"Just keep your nose clean and stay out of the way and you might be alright...but with someone that looks the way that you do, no promises." I glanced at him, not knowing what he meant.

_'Keep your nose clean.' I wonder why everyone keeps telling me that. It must be a northern thing. _I chuckled quietly to myself.

"What do you mean, no promises, Charles."

"I mean, I have seen many people come in and out of this place. Some of them in bags. And I know that men like you don't last very long in here without joining someone's crew...or tugging their pockets if you know what I mean." He gave me a sad look.

I shuddered. I was not going to be 'tugging anyone's pocket' while I was in here.

* * *

That night I didn't sleep very much. I had been having re-occuring nightmares ever since the night that I killed David. I kept waking up in gasps and trembling. As I silently laid on my bunk, trying to keep myself calm, I listen to the sounds of the other inmates snoring. This did nothing to help my fear. I finally realized the situation that I was in. I was probably going to be raped in here, and the thought scared me almost to the point of screaming, but I knew that would be a really bad idea.

The next morning, the cell doors opened for chow at six o' clock. I groaned loudly. I had not even fallen asleep last night, at least not for more than one hour at a time. Ever since I had killed David, I had been having the same nightmare over and over.

_I was in the house that I grew up in. The whole house is dark, as if everyone is asleep. _

_I go to my bedroom and I crawl under my covers to try to fall asleep, but a small light illuminates on the wall, indicating that my door was being opened. I slowly look up to see David's silloette peering down at me. _

"_Please..." I hear myself say._

_Then he climbs on top of me and begins to rip my night gown off. I realize that something feels very different about this time. But I can't place it. Just as he is about to thrust, I am being awoken for chow time._

I slowly trudged my way into count line behind Charles and waited to be escorted like cattle into breakfast. I followed Charles to the tables, and began to scarf down my food. I realized that I hadn't eaten a full meal since I was back in Texas. Charles chuckled.

"Hungry much, Kody?" He teased. I smiled at him and nodded. We both began to laugh. However, I began to feel as if someone was watching me.

I glanced around and noticed that a man with beady eyes was staring at me from across the room. He was biting at his lip and squinting his eyes in lust as he stared, and it made me feel very self conscious. I felt as if he could see straight through my prison apparel and wrap, to my secret. The way he was looking at me was sending shivers down my back. He was slender, had dark brown, almost black facial hair that wrapped around his mouth, and had a very dominate air about him. He reminded me strangely of David, which told me right away that I should stay as far away from this man as possible.

Charles noticed me looking back at the man, and he quickly told me to avert my eyes.

"Do not look at him. You need to stay away from him. Do you hear me? " Charles sounded very worried for me. I wish I could have stopped looking, but I was strangely fascinated, along with completely creeped out.

"I know who he is. It's Bagwell."

I knew that face the very moment I laid eyes on him. I remembered his face from all the wanted posters and the mug shot that I had seen on the TV.

He kept staring at me. Strangely I found myself staring right back at him. He moved his eyes up my body and suddenly we made eye contact. When he realized that I was looking back at him, probably with the same intensity, he smiled at me. That smile sent chills that ran from the top of my spine all the way down to my lower back, but I didn't let any one see that it bothered me.

After chow was over and we were headed back to our cells, I could still feel his hungry eyes on me from behind, and I felt as if I couldn't get out of the dining room fast enough. I found myself following closer and closer behind my cellmate as we exited the dining hall.


	4. Chapter 4:Hidden Agendas

**_Hey everyone! I am sorry that it took me so long to update. My computer had to be restored and I lost the whole story! Luckily I had the rough version printed out. Unfortunately though, I have to now go back and fix everything all over again! So this update is pretty short. I will try to get the new one out very soon but like I said I am a perfectionist with this story so bear with me please._**

* * *

****During yard time, Charles and I were sitting on the bottom row of one of the metal bleachers, talking about how sports have changed through the years (which I found surprisingly entertaining). Suddenly, a see his gaze shift to something behind me. His face changed from a wrinkled smile to suspicion. I glanced behind me and saw a figure approaching us out of my peripheral vision. I turned completely around just in time for the inmate to come in front of me.

The inmate had a shaved head and strikingly hazel eyes. He was wearing the same grey sweat suit, much like every other inmate; this particular inmate, however, had an agenda. I could tell the moment I saw his face. He never looked away from Charles as he approached us, which made me worry.

"You're Charles Westmoreland, right?" The man asked.

"Do I know you?" Charles responded with the same suspicious gaze.

"I knew your wife before she passed."

"You knew Marla?"

"You mean Anne?"

"How'd you know her?"

"We taught together in Boston."

"West Farmington?"

"You mean West Wilmington?"

My cellmate's face softened a little, but his face never left the man's.

"No more tests," He said, " I promise. Seems you know everything about me. Who are you?"

"Michael Scofield." The inmate introduced himself. I remembered that this was the inmate that Warden Pope wanted to see after our first meeting.

I became distracted and I tuned the men out while they began discussing Marilyn. When suddenly, one particular statement that Michael made forced me to listen once again.

"I heard you were DB Cooper."

I had heard about this D.B. Cooper growing up, and I was particularly interested in the story. I found it very amusing that this man thought that Charles was D.B. Cooper. I smirked up at him from my sitting position, and almost instantly he looked back down at me. His face was emotionless towards my obvious amusement. As soon as his eyes met mine, I realized just how bright they were. My smirk instantly faded to what I knew was amazement. I looked away and acted like there was something more interesting towards the fence.

Charles looked amused. "Every new fish comes in here, first thing they hear is that Charles Westmoreland is D.B. Cooper." His face then became serious and intense. "I'll tell you like I tell them. You want the Cooper story? I can't give it to you, 'cause I'm not him."

I felt Michael's gaze leave me and I looked back toward Charles.

"It's too bad," Michael responded, extremely calm. "The man's a legend."

"Nowhere near as much as I wish it was true, friend," Charles laughed, "I'd have a million-five waiting for me on the outside..." He stopped suddenly and looked off towards his left side.

"I'd put some grass under 'em if I were you." He glanced at me worriedly and I knew to follow him. I began to follow him towards the other side of the yard, but curiousity made me stop and turn around.

I saw a tall, older man with long, greased back hair walking deliberately towards Michael. He had two burly men walking on either side of him. I knew that this was not going to end well for Michael.

"This thing would go a lot easier if you'd just hire me." Michael said to the men, still very calm despite the intimidating demeanor of the men approaching him.

The man looked angry as he stopped just in front of Michael's face.

"What is this all about?" The man with the greased back hair asked dangerously.

Michael's voice became very quiet as he responded to the man's question. I couldn't hear what he said, but whatever it was, something about it intrigued the man.

"Where's Fibonacci?" The man asked.

"That's not the way it works." Michael stated to the man.

The man just simply walked away, alone, while the two husky men began to walk closer towards Michael.

"They come at me, John...I'm coming after you." Michael threatened. Something told me that he shouldn't be threatening this man at all. I became a little worried for him.

"I doubt it." John stated, almost amused.

I was too shocked to have the sense to move, as the largest of the two men that came with John swung at Michael's face. He hit hard, but Michael recovered and came up instantly and punched John square in the cheek. John almost fell over to the ground but recovered and the three men began to violently beat Michael to the ground.

Suddenly, gun shots rang out in the yard, and everyone instantly hit the ground. I found myself copying the actions of the rest of the inmates.

I watched as the officers took Michael away in handcuffs, along with the other men. I looked at the greasy haired man, who was already staring at me. Our gazes met and he shot me a smile and a wink as he walked to get in line with the other prisoners. His eyes never left me as we began to walk back to our cells.


End file.
